#burn the palm trees

[uuh-woah-lets-keep-the-feelings]

🌴✨🌴𝓤𝓱𝓱~🌴✨🌴𝔀𝓸𝓪𝓱~🌴✨🌴𝓛𝓮𝓽𝓼🌴✨🌴𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹🌴✨🌴𝓣𝓱𝓮🌴✨🌴𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼🌴✨🌴

[robo-dino-puppy]

a hunter's patience

[i-love-ropes]

ROPE OF THE WEEK (2):

HAUL-MASTER 1/4 IN. X 50 FT. POLYPROPYLENE ROPE

FROM AQUA HARBOR FREIGHT

(Real equivalent equivalent to Harbor Freight)

HELLO! I’M ROPE MF AND I LOVE ROPES!!!

I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT MY ROPES EARLIER BUT KING DEDEDE TOLD ME THAT I SHOULD TRY LEAVING THE FOREST MORE OFTEN

AND I ASKED HIM “WHY?”��

AND HE REPLIED “WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU LEFT THE FOREST? DON’T INCLUDE THOSE MEETINGS WITH YOUR ROPE DEALERS.”

I TOLD HIM “YEARS.”

SO THEN HE SENT ME TO THE RAINBOW ISLANDS TO EXPLORE THEM FOR FIVE DAYS!

HE ALSO SENT ME SOME STAR COINS TO BUY FOOD BUT I BOUGHT ROPES INSTEAD!!!

I’M GOING TO TALK THIS ROPE I BOUGHT ON THE TRIP NOW!

WITH OVER 645 REVIEWS AND RATED AT 4.6 STARS

THIS POLYPROPYLENE ROPE IS A THREE-STRANDED TWIST ROPE

THAT MEANS IT'S NOT ONLY EASY TO HANDLE, BUT GREAT FOR THE OUTDOORS BECAUSE IT’S RESISTANT TO MILDEW AND MOLD

IT’S ALSO ROT-PROOF

IT’S ALSO DESIGNED TO FLOAT ON WATER

THAT MEANS IT WON’T SINK LIKE MY OLD ROPE DID!

I MISS MY ROPE SO MUCH…

(Rope MF needed a moment to mourn his lost rope)

ITS SLICK SURFACE IS GREAT BECAUSE IT PREVENTS IT FROM SNAGGING

WHICH MEANS IT’S EASIER TO DRAG WHILE WALKING AROUND THE FOREST LIKE I USUALLY DO!

THIS ROPE DOES NOT ONLY DOES ALL THE THINGS STATED BEFORE

BUT IT ALSO DOES. NOT. EASILY. FRAY.

THAT’S AMAZING!!!

THIS ROPE IS SUPER DURABLE

WHICH IS GREAT BECAUSE I CAN HOLD AND LOOK AT THIS ROPE FOR LONGER!!!

IT CAN ALSO HOLD UP TO 112 POUNDS!

112 POUNDS WORTH OF ROPES!!!

112 POUNDS WORTH OF ROPE MF!

ONE KING DEDEDE FROM 16 YEARS AGO! 

NOW, WE WILL NEED AT LEAST TWO HUAL-MASTER 1/4 IN. X 50 FT. POLYPROPYLENE ROPE TO CARRY KING DEDEDE

BUT MORE ROPES THE MERRIER!!!

YOU THINK THIS ROPE WOULD BE EXPENSIVE WITH HOW HIGH QUALITY IT IS BUT NO! IT COST 12 STAR COINS!!! THAT IS ALMOST 2 KIRBY BURGERS FROM THE WADDLE DEE CAFE

(Based off of some calculations, a star coin cost at least $0.18 and the rope in the real world cost $2.19 (I rounded it down and used the American system))

THAT’S WHY I BOUGHT MANY OF THEM!

I’VE BEEN USING THEM ALL AROUND THE HOUSE

FOR EXAMPLE:

I USED IT THE OTHER DAY TO TIE DOWN ITEMS AROUND MY HOUSE DURING A VERY STRONG WIND STORM

I USED IT THE OTHER DAY TO NOT GET BLOWN AWAY DURING THE WIND STORM

I HAVE ALSO BEEN USING IT TODAY TO DRAG LOGS AROUND BECAUSE MY HOME GOT DAMAGED DURING THE WIND STORM

A SINGLE LIGHTING-BOLT SHOT THROUGH MY HOUSE, SETTING IT ON FIRE!!!

THE ROPE IS A GREAT HELP!!!

IT’S MAKING CARRYING AND DRAGGING THINGS AROUND EASIER WHILE I’M REBUILDING MY HOME!

I RATE THIS ROPE A

10/10

[thychesters]

#wipwednesday! some zoro pov pining but not realizing acknowledging he is until he finally goes “oh. oh lmao.” or sanji kicks him in the head. whichever happens first. (this part is set right at the end of alabasta!)

there’s an awful lot of chest touching in this fic. a lot of “bro. you got a new scar bro. bro, u hurt bro. will it ever heal or will you carry this forever?” and chopper screaming “of course it’s not going to heal if you keep touching it!”

also called “the pine trees fic” because he’s PINING and an entire forest will grow before zoro admits anything. | text under the cut:

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he says, voice barely above a murmur.

“S’okay,” Luffy says. “Whrrya doin’?”

“What?”

“Said,” he tries to sit up a little, though it’s accompanied by a groan and Zoro gently nudging him to lie back down again, a small spark of panic shooting through his veins. He’s seen the wound for himself and knows it will haunt him for a while still: the bloody mess of Luffy’s body, the (commendable) knowledge that he fought in that condition, and that he wasn’t there. “Ah, what’re you doin’?”

“Came to check on you.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, I’m here,” Luffy says, eyes already slipping shut again. For a split second he thinks he’s fallen asleep, right up under a cool hand reaches for his own, fingers looping around his wrist. Luffy’s gaze is half-lidded as he looks up at him, somehow stern even on the cusp of unconsciousness. The same hand he drags toward his chest, toward the upper part of where the bandages lay, where his skin is warm to the touch and alive.

He’s met with a surprising amount of resistance, instead of the usual give in his flesh. As tactile a person he may be, he knows Luffy doesn’t like being touched. But now he finds he wants to pry as much as he can, wants to digs his fingers in and see how far his ribs bend, with a sick, twisted feeling that coils in his gut, like part of him wants to burrow himself into his chest, and all Luffy does is watch him with bleary eyes, blinking himself awake.

There is a reassurance in there he didn’t know he was looking for, and his next breath is smoother, though there’s a shakiness to the beginning of his inhale.

Luffy tugs again, a little more insistently this time, and so Zoro follows to settle down beside him. The mattress dips under his weight and his movements are awkward because Luffy refuses to let go of him, but he lies at his side, Luffy rolling his head on his pillow to face him and holding his hand against his chest.

Zoro can feel the rise and fall of it, the thump of his heart if he lets his fingertips press against the flesh a little more. Luffy’s asleep, snoring loudly in the next instant, but Zoro remains awake for a little while longer. With the cool desert breeze rolling in he could almost imagine them on a dinghy again, Luffy asleep beside him and limbs entangled as he keeps watch. He watches him longer still, even as his breathing evens out and he drools onto his pillow, and something hot and angry, scorching the back of his neck in the desert sun, crawls up the back of his ears, threatening to dig its nails into his hair and yank his head back to leave the column of throat exposed like a fool.

[eviltwinconflict]

had a dream where i was with buck tick doing a photo shoot and they had the option to wear a suit with sandles or a suit with swim shorts and big boots. anyways yuta said "what kind of sandles are they." the sandles were flip flops

[southislandwren]

i fucking LOVE geoguessr im about to make license plate flashcards and learn every single area code in the us

[jedi-bird]

Bought myself some little treats today that maybe I shouldn't have but I'm not going to feel guilty about. Ordered a tea plant (camellia sinensis) that should come early next year and a print to honor all the cats I've lost over the years. Also ordered some iris rhizomes and some squash seeds (patty pan style), because I had a coupon and it sounded fun.

I also did some work around the house. Got the new cleaning towels washed and brought upstairs (different colors than the ones downstairs so I'll always know that I have rags wherever I need them). Put up some hooks to secure the pan and broom in a better place than just in the middle of the kitchen. Need to put more up by the stove for the pot holders; might try to do that tonight. Replanted the pepper seedlings I grew into bigger pots and fucked up (forgot that one was different and now don't know which one they are).

Both my partner and I got food poisoning at lunch, so my motivation to do more things is pretty low. If stomach settles a bit, I might try out a new crochet pattern tonight. If not, I'm going to sleep extra early.

[picpalace1]

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[quimichi]

↳˳;; ❝ CUDDLING WITH KINICH ᵕ̈೫˚∗ ft. Ajaw

"Are you comfortable?" He asks, voice low and soft as to not frighten the small birds in the tree above. A gentle breeze sways his hair. "Very..." you relax against him even further, enjoying the peace. His grip tightens around you for a moment, holding you closer.

He brushes a kiss to your temple, then buries his nose in your hair. Kinich is quiet, content to hold you in silence and listen to the sounds of the forest around you. His fingers trail up and down your side, tracing the shape of your body under your clothes. He is warm all over, his body burning with the heat of being pressed against you.

In the comfort and relative solitude of this tree, he lets himself relax. Kinich lets out a sigh, tension slowly leaking out of his muscles as he holds you. He's been craving closeness like this for what feels like forever. His hand slides up beneath your shirt, coming to rest at the small of your back. His palm is hot against your skin, almost burning. His heartbeat has been steady this entire time, but it quickens when his hand touches your flesh.

"You're so unbelievably beautiful," he breathes, his words so low that they're barely a whisper. He pulls you closer, pressing himself against you as if he wants to merge into your very skin. His lips are on your skin. He's planting kisses up your neck, his breath hot against your nape. Kinich is kissing a path down to your collarbone, his hands roving over your body with an almost dizzying speed. His hair tickles your skin with every move.

"Needy?" You ask with a small laugh, giving him more access to your neck. "Maybe a little," he murmurs against the soft skin of your neck. A sudden shift in his position leaves you pressed against the trunk of the tree with a firm thump. Kinich has his body pinned against you, trapping you between himself and the wood.

He's kissing your neck, one of his hands grasping your hip. "You don't know half the things I want to do to you when we're alone," he growls. His voice is rougher than usual, a deep rasp that vibrates against your flesh.

"Ajaw may have told me one or two things." That draws a quiet, strangled sound from his lips. Kinich's hand moves from your hip to grip your jaw, tilting your head back so he can look at your face. "Ajaw really needs to shut his mouth," he remarks, tone a little too casual to be believable. The grip he has on your jaw is bordering on too tight. There's a dangerous look in his eyes. "He's been a bit too eager to talk about me, lately," he grumbles, leaning down to leave a bite on your neck. "I'm gonna have a word with him about that."

"I don't think it's gonna work." "...True." Kinich grumbles against your skin. He lets out another low sound, a quiet, frustrated thing that makes his body shiver against yours. "Still gonna try, though," he mutters. "He really needs to keep his mouth shut. Talking too much."

"I'M GONNA SHUT YOUR MOUTH KINICH IF YOU DON'T STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT ME!"

[eddies-ashtray]

white hot forever

Pairing: Logan “Wolverine” Howlett x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Most days exhaustion plagues him. But tonight, with his last dregs of energy, Logan cooks for you. Though he’s hungry for something far more enticing.

WC: 5.6k

Category: Smut (18+ ONLY, minors dni)

Content: Implied (non-specified) age gap, kissing, Logan throws reader over his shoulder/carries her, cunnilingus, unprotected pnv, reverse cowgirl, dirty talk, petnames (baby, old man, etc), beard burn, 1 single spank, some light nipple play, spitting, kinda dom logan/sub reader, light teasing/mocking, a dash of humiliation kink, lots of manhandling, an inordinate amount of animal metaphor/simile, mentions of logan’s exhaustion/aging due to the adamantium poisoning.

♡*♡*♡

His biceps strain against the thin cotton of his white button-down–the sleeves rolled up–as he finely chops a red pepper. His heavy hand lends to the particularly booming sound of the knife landing on the wood cutting board. But you don’t mind, content to observe from your ideal spot on the countertop of the island. 

A half empty wine glass sits in your palm as your gaze lingers on the smattering of dark hair beneath the low-cut tank he wears under the button-down. 

The kitchen smells of the sweetness of the cooking oil he used and the warmth of nostalgia. Faint memories from childhood of your mother bustling around the kitchen as she prepared dinner linger at the edges of your mind, brought on by familiar scents. When you breathe it in, you also catch lingering traces of Logan’s shampoo and, faintly, sweat. 

“You ever…Ya know,” you pause, swirling the white liquid around. “Use the claws to chop an onion or something?”

Doing your best to suppress a smirk when Logan looks up at you from beneath his brows and pins you with a stern gaze, you hold his eyes. 

You quirk a brow, waiting for his response as a snort threatens to bubble up. 

A smirk cracks through his intense facade, crows feet deepening slightly. With an endearing shake of his head, he huffs a laugh through his nose. Logan’s a bit of a grump—even more so now that his hair has greyed and he’s let his beard grow somewhat unruly—but he’s not without a sense of humour. 

“No,” his voice, though signed with a note of playfulness, is as gruff as always when he rests the knife on the cutting board. “But as you know, they’ve been useful for…other things.” 

The word ‘other’ is loaded with intensity as the hand that previously gripped the knife handle lands deceptively gently on your right knee. It skates roughly up your thigh to thumb at the edge of your skirt. 

You only hum in response. Despite the warmth of the kitchen, a chill runs up your spine and you shiver involuntarily. You’re not sure how he does that. Dial things up to 100 before you can even blink. It keeps you on your toes, even a few years in.  

Now it’s his turn to quirk a brow–ever expressive–when his heavy gaze finally lifts from your legs.

Warmth begins to seep into your chest and stoke a small fire in your belly.

But the growing tension vanishes the moment a timer dings, shrill and intrusive. 

Pulling himself away from your skin to tend to the sound, Logan bends at the knees to pull a steaming dish from the oven. 

The crack of his joints is a quiet popping sound compared to the low grunt he releases when he stands back up to his full height to place the dish on the stovetop. 

He tosses a worn out dish towel over his shoulder–the same one he’d used to pull the food from the oven. 

Watching him carefully as he spins around in search of his whiskey glass, you remark, “You look handsome like this.” 

You pass him the liquor, his large hand wrapping around the glass. 

“Handsome like what?” he asks, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. 

It’s not often Logan has the energy for this. Long days drain him now. Like sweet syrup from a tapped tree, a slow drip that takes and takes.

“Just–in the kitchen with me. Cooking…Taking care of me,” you say. 

Another soft smile graces his lips and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek, a hand at your hip, and your face warms. 

Gulping down a healthy sip of his drink, his throat bobs as he swallows the auburn liquid. When the glass clinks against the marble as he puts it down, you notice droplets linger in his beard. Once you’ve placed your own glass down you reach to thumb away the beaded liquid.

“Hm?” he hums, though it’s more of a growl when he does it, the sound rumbling up from deep in his broad chest. 

“Just got some…” you trail off, expecting him to come to the natural conclusion himself when you lean in and cup his jaw. Feel the roughness of his beard against your palm as you swipe away the small droplet. “There.” 

Logan leans briefly into your touch to kiss the soft skin of your palm in thanks. The gesture makes your heart ache. 

You’re about to pull away, but Logan grasps your wrist in one strong hand, savouring your touch. He’s looking at you with an unexpected hunger behind his eyes as he feels the skin of your wrist beneath his rough palm. You can’t deny the way it revives the searing heat in the pit of your stomach. 

“What?” The word comes out more breathy than you’d intended. 

“Nothin’.” Logan shakes his head, holding your gaze. He releases your hand gently. 

The word lingers in the air between you. 

The way he says it–like it’s not really nothing–wires you right up again. You know he knows it too–his overly keen senses able to pick up the rhythm of your heart hammering against your ribcage. 

You need to expel the energy or let the tension snap but can only think of the intoxicating scent of whiskey on his breath. “You know, I’ve never tried whiskey.”

He’s quick to respond. “No? You want to?” 

“Okay.” It comes out in a whisper. The atmosphere feels too fragile for any other tone.

Logan grabs the crystal glass, just another sip or two remaining. He steals another as he steps in front of you, his left palm falling to your knee to push your legs apart so he has room to stand between them. 

He lingers above you and you lick your lips in anticipation, catching the way hazel eyes darken beneath furrowed brows. 

Then, Logan looks away and you watch as he places the glass down on the counter and his palms flat beside your thighs, effectively caging you in so you’re trapped in his space. Logan is all you can breathe, all you can see, all you can smell as your chest rises and falls with shallow breaths. 

Eyes finally returning to yours, his head tilts to the side–cocky, challenging. “Then give your old man a kiss.” 

A whimper nearly escapes you before you’re wrapping your arms around his neck and hungrily pressing your lips to his like it’s an order. It may as well have been, gruff as he is. 

Logan grunts in response to your quick action, pulling your leg around his waist so your heel digs into the small of his back. 

The roughness of his beard rubs your chin and cheeks, a pleasant sting against sensitive skin. Though you’re soon distracted when his hand leaves your calf in favour of greedily running up your thigh. They leave heat and tingling skin in their wake, and you gasp into the kiss when he gives the meat of your thigh a generous squeeze. 

His desperation for you is matched only by yours for him as you wind your other leg around his hips to tug him closer. Grunting at your forcefulness, Logan finally slips his tongue into your warm mouth.  

The whiskey on his tongue is overpowering as he kisses you like he’s starving for it–the meal he was making long forgotten. Warm hands brush up the length of your spine, eliciting a subtle shiver, before one of his large palms cradles your skull like you’ll shatter without the support. 

His nose bumps yours as he deepens the kiss, licking into your mouth with fervour now. When his spare hand coasts over your chest to grab at your tits over your top, you arch into his touch with a moan like he demands it. 

When you bite his bottom lip he growls, long and deep. A renewed sense of desperation claws at your skin as your kisses become increasingly wanton and sloppy. Tangling tongues generate sounds bordering on obscenity. 

His claws may as well be dragging down your body, leaving bloody marks in their wake with the way his touch makes your skin sing. You hope he leaves bruises when he grasps at the flesh of your hips, pulling your lower-half flush against his pelvis. 

You can feel him, hard and straining against his black slacks. It’s impossible not to moan, lips leaving his as your mouth falls open to release the breathy sound. 

For a moment, you grind against his cock with your forehead pressed to his, using your hands wrapped around his neck as leverage. Feeling back muscles flex under your warm palms. The delicious slide of your soaked panties against his hardness is enough to drive you wild. 

A gasp is pulled out of you when your clit catches briefly on his tip beneath clean slacks. Logan growls through clenched teeth, pressing you into him harder, fervently rolling his hips. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Logan,” you whimper, aching for him as you pant into each other’s mouths. “Please.” 

“Fuck,” he rasps before he’s scooping you up off the counter, hoisting you up over his shoulder. Squealing at the surprise demonstration of his great strength, Logan strides through the kitchen and towards the living room. 

Desire burns deep in your belly as he carries you across the house like it’s nothing. He’s all broad chest, bulging biceps, and thick thighs. It makes you dizzy. You can’t help but reach out and pinch the meat of his thigh. 

“Hey!” He barks. 

Unsurprisingly quickly, Logan delivers a sharp smack to your ass and you yelp in shock, jolting against him. “So fuckin’ naughty.” 

The lingering sting coupled with his gruff tone has you squirming in his hold, whining low in your throat. 

In a single sudden motion, Logan manoeuvers you off his shoulder, dropping you onto the couch. And suddenly you feel deliciously small pinned beneath his hooded gaze. He towers over you. His staggering height emphasized from your perspective where you lay against the cushions. 

He’s assumed that authoritative stance that has every atom in your body buzzing–his arms crossed over his chest. This paired with his hard gaze is a lethal combination. He’s got that look in his eyes, like what am I gonna do with you? 

“Sorry.” Insincerity bleeds through your tone. You like to get him like this. To rile him up until he is more animal than man. 

Hazel eyes narrow as he grunts, disbelieving your weak apology. 

“You wanna be sorry?” He asks with a quick flick of his chin in your direction.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you nod. His chest rumbles with a deep sigh.

Unable to avert your gaze from his face, you bear witness to the glorious sight of Logan shedding his button-down. Your hips wiggle subtly in anticipation–though Logan would call it impatience. The cotton article is tossed carelessly over the chair by the couch.

He crouches down with a soft grunt, nods. “Okay.” 

Swiftly, you are tugged to the edge of the couch by Logan’s hands on your hips. Your skirt gets rucked up your waist, exposing you to the warm air of the house. Though it feels far more jarringly cool between your legs where you’re hot and wanting, pussy weeping for the older man before you.

“So fuckin’ soaked already,” He mutters, more to himself than to you. The comment has pleasure boiling low in your belly. 

“Logan.” He glances up at you briefly then returns his eyes to your cunt.  

You watch with rapture as his nostrils flare, no doubt overwhelmed by your scent this close to your centre. A predator ready to devour its prey. 

For the briefest of moments, Logan admires the wetness seeping through your panties, presses his thumb against the clothed, leaking well just to see your hips jump. Biting back a pathetic whine is far more difficult when his lips twitch into a faint smirk. 

There’s a change in his eyes in a split second where brows lower and pupils dilate. It’s then that he rips your panties down your legs and you swear you hear the distinct sound of fabric tearing. Gasping, you toss your head back between your shoulders, panting and warm all over. 

His chest rumbles with a guttural sound, savouring the sight of you spread open wide and dripping for him. 

Logan’s rough hands rub up and down your thighs, hungry. When they pause you swear you can feel his gaze burning a hole into the column of your throat. 

“Eyes,” He demands.

You obey, catching a glimpse of him stuffing your panties into his back pocket from where he kneels on the floor between your legs. 

The anticipation eats you alive, hips flexing, unable to remain still. Logan pins them down in an instant. 

Everything quiets. Tunnel vision casts out any and all sound or sight besides him. 

“Don’t move,” Is all he says before he’s diving in and devouring you, tongue hot on your sensitive skin. 

“Fuck!” you cry, hands plunging into his hair. 

He’s groaning the second his tongue licks up your cunt, dining on your taste. He gorges on you like he’s been deprived of your taste for far too long and he’s hollow without it. 

You’re drunk and dizzy on the way his beard scratches against your skin. The way the thick hair rubs against your cunt and sensitive inner thighs. A carnal craving satisfied. He’ll pull away after and be covered in you, unable to kiss you without smearing your desire across your own chin. 

The rough tug you give his hair causes him to grunt into you. He eats you out with zeal, an energy that so often eludes him these days. 

“Feels so good…Shit…So-” you babble on, only half aware of the praise spilling from your mouth.

For now, you are not sorry about his overzealous approach. But you will be. After, when the burn becomes a sting. When you are unable to walk for a week straight without feeling the roughness of his beard between your thighs. When he’ll reach over while he’s driving and squeeze your thigh meanly as a reminder. 

For now, you moan unabashedly as he nips at your clit harshly. Free roaming hands find warm skin, grabbing fistfulls of you. Rubbing your thighs, grabbing at your hips, spreading possessively over your stomach. Soon, his hand snakes under your top to squeeze at your tits, and you gasp sharply when he pinches your nipple between thumb and forefinger. 

The fire in your belly rages on, burning bright, spitting ash. 

“Logan,” You whine, long and drawn out, when he shakes his head back and forth animalistically, coating more of his beard in your wetness, your scent. He grunts against your pussy at the sound of his name hot on your tongue, the vibrations it causes driving you mad. 

His roughness makes your cunt throb. You derive as much pleasure from the sensation of his tongue licking up your slit and circling your clit as you do from simply watching him like this. His eyes shut in concentration, locked in as he laps up your juices like it sustains him. Like he is taking his fill of you before he hibernates for the winter. 

Just the obscene sounds of his hunger, the slurping and the groans emanating from deep within his chest are enough to prompt your hips to grind up into the pleasure his mouth provides. And he accepts all of it enthusiastically. 

You get lost in it, his wet muscle prodding at your entrance, licking up your slit to spread the wetness he’d collected over your clit. He sucks it between his lips, causing you to groan. 

Briefly, Logan pulls away, and you whine in protest. But his pause allows you to glimpse the parts of his beard that are now matted down with wetness. The sight causes warmth to spread across your chest, equal parts humiliation and pleasure. 

“Taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he pants against your thigh, warm breath fanning over your puffy cunt. “Look at you,” he slurs, thumb rubbing over your pussy, spreading the wetness all over. 

Your hips jump and you whine again. Logan growls a quiet, desperate sound before diving back in, practically making out with your pussy and inserting two of his thick fingers into your heat. 

“Shit! Lo-” his name gets cut off with a girlish moan, a high sound only he could pull out of you, body completely overwhelmed by the excess of pleasure. 

“There she is,” he drawls, voice muffled and thick with lust before enveloping your clit in the warmth of his mouth and sucking. Your grip in his hair tightens as your hips grind into his mouth and down onto his fingers. Fingers which curl up into the gummy walls of your cunt, languidly brushing that sensitive spot inside over and over. 

Soon, slow movements evolve into quicker, but still consistent and deliberate, pumps into your weeping hole. It is precisely then that the ever-growing fire in your belly begins to consume you entirely. The moment Logan’s jaw goes slack and he begins to desperately lap at your cunt with a near entire loss of coordination, your vision goes white. 

Your orgasm crashes over you, an all-consuming force as Logan continues to fuck you with his fingers. It’s like you are bursting at the seams, coming apart in his hands. Every cell in your body catches fire as you roll your hips into his hand, riding out the waves of your climax. 

You’re panting as you come down, hips slowing to a stop as your body becomes over-sensitive to his touch. You twitch as Logan slowly pulls his fingers from you, his head falling to rest on your trembling thigh. 

“You know…For an old man, that was-” 

You suck in a sharp breath, hips jumping at the harsh sensation of Logan intentionally rubbing his beard over your already burning inner thighs. He chuckles lowly at your reaction, but is quick to soothe you, laying tender kisses across heated skin. 

Your hands trail down from his hair, and stroke a thumb softly over his cheek. He allows the sweet touches to continue for several moments before he pushes off his knees with a grunt. Logan falls onto the couch next to you, legs spread wide. Eyeing him in your periphery, you can tell he’s just as exhausted as you; his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.  

You’re still panting softly as you watch him, your limbs like Jell-O, skirt hastily pushed up past your waist, and top askew. The sight of him licking his fingers clean of you makes your clit twitch despite its sensitivity. 

Finally, he finds your eyes. 

“C’mere,” Logan rasps, patting his thigh. 

It takes great effort for you to crawl into his lap, and you don’t do it without some assistance. Logan’s hands grip your waist, pull you so you’re seated sideways over his thighs so as not to further irritate the burn. 

You wind an arm around his neck, tenderly stroking the hair at his nape. 

Logan rubs over the dough of your thighs, thumbs caressing between the split of them. Later, he’ll help you gently rub soothing lotion into them, but for now he’s all desire as he gazes down at where his hands press lightly into your legs. 

“How’s that feel?” he asks quietly. 

You can’t help but squirm in his lap a little, feeling him hot and hard beneath your thighs.

“Mmh,” you muse, staring down at his hands on you, legs raw and tingling. “Good.” 

You can feel his eyes on the side of your face, the warmth of his body beneath yours. “Yeah?”

You nod, meeting his eyes before cupping his jaw and scratching softly at his beard, feeling the lingering wetness there. Briefly, his eyes drift shut and he groans quietly. 

“How’s that feel?” you repeat his question back at him, teasing. 

Logan growls, grabs the back of your head, and desperately presses his lips to yours in answer. 

You moan softly into the kiss, holding his face in your hands as you lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue more than the whiskey now. 

Then you’re trailing your hands down his chest and pulling away only briefly to tug his white tank off before your fingers deftly begin to undo his belt. The metallic clink it makes, the sound of leather sliding against cotton as it comes off, only makes your pussy clench around nothing as you whine into his mouth. 

Your ardour makes Logan chuckle, breaking away from your lips in favour of kissing roughly down your neck. His hands now cup your jaw, allowing him to tilt your head back as his lips leave a trail of wet kisses across heated skin. You sigh as his beard tickles your neck. 

“So needy,” he mumbles into your skin. 

You groan and feel his smirk against the skin of your chest before he’s pulling your skirt and top off over your head and tossing them aside. 

Wanting hands find their way into his hair again when he pulls away from your skin momentarily. He enjoys having you completely naked in his lap while he’s still mostly clothed. You can tell from the way his nostrils flare when he drags in a deep breath, the way his tongue wets his mouth before he pulls you close and latches onto your nipple. 

He greedily licks and sucks and bites at one while palming the other in one large hand. 

“Logan,” you breathe his name like a prayer, pulling him closer with hands locked in his hair. 

His teeth graze your nipple, tugging it gently. Gasping in shock, your face twists up at the intense mix of pleasure-pain that swirls around in your gut. He releases your breast, breathing harshly over your now damp skin. 

Impatient and needy, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, rubbing yourself over his hardness. Surely, you’ll leave a damp patch on his clean slacks. The thought only spurs you on, movements becoming desperate. 

His cock twitches beneath you, tip probably an angry red and leaking sticky precum you selfishly wish to lick up. “Fuck, need to feel you, sweetheart.” 

The whine his proclamation elicits borders on pathetic, and in a rush you’re helping him tug his slacks down just enough that his cock can spring free. 

“So pretty,” you whisper, dragging your middle finger across prominent veins that run down his length, prompting him to twitch and hiss through his teeth.

Saliva begins to pool in your mouth, but you’re tugged back to Earth when Logan grabs your waist, ordering you to ‘turn around’. 

Body buzzing in anticipation, you allow him to manhandle you into the right position, savouring the feel of his hands manipulating your movements. 

“There ya go,” He praises, pulling your back flush against his chest. His hand sneaks up your chest. When it reaches your neck, he presses gently so your head falls against his shoulder. 

Your eyes meet as your chest heaves. 

“Open.” 

Eyes remaining on his, you part your lips. 

“Don’t swallow,” Logan instructs gruffly, brow quirked. He may as well have pointed a finger in your face, stern as he is. 

You nod quickly, and he leans forward slightly to spit thickly onto your tongue. It’s so obscene a tremor wracks through your body as heat spills into your gut. 

Hand below your chin, Logan closes your jaw for you, allowing his saliva to mix with your own before putting his hand in front of you, saying, “Spit.” 

You obey a little messily, some ending up dribbling down your chin. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he says, smearing the sticky mess over your already messy cunt. You whine, all high and breathy. Still slightly sensitive. 

Finally, he adjusts you, shoving you forward in his lap so he’s at the right angle to thrust into your wet heat. 

Tandem groans are released into the air the moment he fills you. A millisecond to adjust. To savour how deeply he fills you before his hands are at your waist to help guide your movements.

Using your own hands on his legs as leverage allows for slow, deep thrusts that make your body quake. Those first sweet drags of his cock against your slick walls are enough to make you shudder. 

Reaching a steady rhythm, you begin to pant, the exertion it takes to ride him like this tiring you out quickly. Though Logan is quick to help, supporting you with strong hands as he guides you up and down. Still, you’ve yet to lose your vigour. Entranced by the slow roll of your hips, the way his cock reaches the deepest parts of you in this position. His strong thighs bracketing your body. 

“That’s it…That’s it.” Logan grunts lowly, nearly delirious and wholly mesmerized by how your body takes all of him. How you stretch around him to accommodate his size. Hypnotized briefly as he hungrily watches the place where you connect. 

A gasp evolves into a moan as one of his hands leaves your waist in favour of seeking out the sensitive button at the top of your cunt. Clumsy fingers toy with your clit, slipping around messily. Flames lick at your nerve endings. On occasion he loses his place, unable to maintain a perfect rhythm from behind you, but just as quickly returns to circle the bud.  

Another hand moves to your belly, pulling your body backwards, his sweat-slick chest now pressed up against your back. You wish you could drag your nails down his broad chest, watch as he loses himself in the feeling. But the closeness this position allows is worth the sacrifice. 

Being nearly immobilized pressed up against him like this, giving him full control of your body, it feeds some deep desire. It’s the reason your head has gone a little fuzzy. He knows it too. He knows it when you let a whine slip past your lips. When you begin to grind back against him needily. 

“Feel good, baby?” he rasps. At the same time, he rubs his middle finger over your clit in time with a deliciously deep thrust. All you can do is throw your head back against his shoulder, another wanton moan clawing its way up your throat, directly into his ear. That’s all the answer he needs. 

Logan grunts in response. Pistoning hips setting a rhythm that is both intimate and punishing, making you dizzy. His closeness makes you dizzy. Those low grunts in your ear are enough to drop pearls of pleasure into the pit of your stomach. All of it contributing to the growing fog in your mind. 

You writhe against him, an arm wrapping around the back of his head, keeping him close with a hand buried in his hair. Your other hand remains locked onto his forearm as it flexes with each rub of your sensitive clit. 

Logan begins to grunt animalistically into your ear, unabashed about his desire for you. You feel it in the way his strong arms grip your body, ensuring your security. In the way he lets moans and grunts and groans rumble up from his chest, unafraid to let you hear what you do to him. 

His hands all over your body, the deep strokes of his cock that reach the deepest parts of you, his soft grunts in your ear–it all feeds the flames in your belly. 

“Fuck. S-so full,” you mewl, overwhelmed tears springing to your eyes. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he placates, tone edging on mockery. His voice sends shockwaves through your body. The sweet humiliation it brings presses into your skin like a brand, leaving it white-hot. 

More. You need more of him. 

Desperately, clumsily, you grind back into him enthusiastically, writhing in his grasp. The rhythm turns staccato and messy as a result. But it doesn’t matter. You just need more.

You whine, turning your head towards him and he gets the hint, meets you halfway and licks hotly into your mouth the moment your lips meet. Your hands twist in his hair. 

It’s messy and uncoordinated and your neck hurts twisted to kiss him like this. But then there’s the fiery taste of whiskey. And you. And him, his cigars. And the pain–it’s worth it. It’s necessary. 

When you break away, only a thin line of saliva connecting your mouths now, it’s to gasp. Your brows furrow, pleasure twisting your insides. 

You go cross-eyed trying to hold his gaze, and he grins. It’s a wolfish thing. A flash of his teeth, lips kissed red and puffy. The sight makes your pussy clench around him. 

A smile tugs at your own mouth, probably fucked out and hazy with pupils blown wide. It only grows when the hand gripping your waist skims over your hot skin. On its journey, he grabs at your tits, pinches your nipple. Every sensation now blends together, overwhelming you with pleasure.

His hand pauses at the base of your neck where it grazes over the stretched expanse of skin. 

A teasing squeeze. Once. Your brows knitting together. Twice. Your mouth dropping open. His grip not quite tight enough to cut off airflow and elicit that floaty feeling. But enough to make you whine low in your throat. You are at his mercy.

Eyes drifting shut, you cry out, feeling your climax building at the pit of your stomach. Breathy moans escape you with each rub of his finger over your sensitive bundle of nerves, edging on overstimulating. Each sharp thrust drives you closer to that edge, setting your body alight. 

“Y’gonna come, honey?” Logan pants, voice hoarse. 

These escapades exhaust him now. You’ve witnessed the way it sinks into his bones after. But there’s also the hint of a grin in his voice. Along with desperation. Desperation to feel you fall apart. An indication that the pleasure he provides, the pleasure he receives, is worth the exhaustion. It’s rewarding for him. 

Your answer is the most pathetic whine, high and wanton as overwhelmed tears blur your vision, threatening to spill over. “Uhuh.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asks, and you swear his fingers were made to make you come apart at the seams when he rubs over your clit like that. Like it gives him pleasure too.

“Yeah,” you say, breathless, barely moving over his cock as he pounds into you from below, his strong legs beginning to tremble. 

“Yeah,” Logan repeats. Mockery is thick on his tongue, a faux pout playing at his mouth. You lose it. 

Everything else falls away. Tingling heat spreads beneath your skin as you finally let go. Your body thrums with your release, the feel of his damp skin at your back, his hands on your body, how full of him you are. 

 Logan has little room to be cocky. Because the moment you begin to clench around him–cunt pulsing with each wave of your orgasm washing over you–he’s grunting curses into your shoulder, leaving bite marks on the tender flesh as his warm seed spurts into you. 

He shudders with his release. 

“Fuck,” he growls, grinding up into you, his grasp on your body tightening. 

In a flash, he removes his hand from your throat. And, distantly, past your post-coital fog, you hear the sound of metal unsheathing rapidly. You glance to your right.

Retracting claws reveal three deep holes pierced into the faux leather, showcasing thick wire springs and white stuffing. 

Blearily, you drag your hand down his arm, running over hair and slowly aging skin. Reaching his wrist, you bring his hand up to your mouth, cup it in both of yours. You smooth your thumb gently over the edges of his knuckles, watch for moments as the holes very slowly begin to close. 

You kiss his knuckles thrice. Once over each slowly healing wound. 

Eventually, the skin will mend. The wounds will be nonexistent. They will heal in time. But his body is exhausted. And every time the claws come out, the cracks in his skin take longer and longer to repair themselves. 

He collapses beneath you, rugged breaths pulled from tired lungs. 

Carefully, he slides out of you and you help him tuck himself back into his boxers. Press a kiss to his forehead. 

A whisper of, “Be right back.” against heated skin before leaving on unsteady legs to clean yourself up. His desire is a slow leak down your thighs now. 

If he were a younger man, still full of strength and agility, he’d have done this part for you. You know he wishes he could. Part of you wishes he could too. But you like to take care of him too. 

When you return, he’s still sunken into the couch, chest bare and sweaty. He accepts the glass of water you bring him, gulps it down thirstily. 

Cuddling up next to him now, you brush the sweat-damp hair back from his face. You’ll allow him to pull you close. You’ll hold each other, stroke the skin beneath his eyes tenderly. The fresh dark circles there. And he’ll press soft kisses against the lingering bite marks on your shoulder, whisper praise into your ear. 

When his honeyed eyes catch yours, you know he longs to spoil you. To scoop you up in his arms and take you to bed. 

But this takes a lot out of him now. It will be days–maybe more–before you’ll be able to do something like that again. 

So, you’ll take care of him. He’ll insist on having you underneath him. Begrudge the fact that the exhaustion will have yet to be leached from his bones. But acquiesce the moment your hands reach beneath his belt. 

♡*♡*♡

Thank you for reading! Reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

[sectumsempraaa]

Flames on Thin Ice

Pairing: jealous!Theo Nott x fem!Ravenclaw!reader

Word count: 2.9k

TW: cursing, jealousy, ridiculous amounts of yearning and fluff

Based on this request! Thank you :)

Summary: You and Theo Nott are something much more than friends, but just less than lovers. He would very much like to change that, as he’s no longer able to control his rapidly intensifying feelings for you. But when Slughorn’s exclusive Christmas party approaches and Draco Malfoy asks you to be his date, the limits of Theo’s jealousy are tested like never before.

“Come here, bella,” Theo smiles and gestures towards you as he strides over to where you stand, surrounded by holiday decor. He approaches you from the side, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you gently. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you hook an arm around his shoulders, placing the star on top of the Slytherin common room holiday tree.

Decorating the common room tree is one of your favorite parts of winter at Hogwarts. This year, the Slytherins asked for your help after hearing how amazing you did with the Ravenclaw tree for your own house.

Theo can’t say the same, but he’d do just about anything at this point to spend time with you. His crush on you has blossomed the last couple of months, your pull on him amplifying each day. Any opportunity he sees to touch you, help you, or make you laugh, he takes. No question.

“Grazie, cara mio.” You respond, looking down into his heavy, perfect blue eyes. You always try to speak to him in Italian whenever you can, picking up on his more common phrases. You’re the only one that goes to that kind of effort for him and he notices it. God, does it notice it.

He spins you around, earning a series of giggles from you before he lets you back down on your feet. Your hand lingers on his for a few seconds, which feels like an eternity to him. If only he could kiss you right here, right now. But the graze of your fingertips on his palm is enough for him, for now. He’ll take what he can get.

You step back, turning towards the fully decorated tree, ready to show off your hard work. He wants to watch with you but he can’t bear to when you’re looking this beautiful, this stunning. His eyes obsess over your every perfect feature, his eyes drinking in your essence. 

This might be my favorite outfit of hers. The plaid skirt, the knee-high socks, the cream colored sweater. No- the one from my birthday, when she wore my necklace…

Oblivious to his longing stare, you take out your wand, tucked into the waistline of your skirt.

“Lumos,” you say, a look of wonder and awe blossoming on your face as the tree lights up. The warm glow makes you gasp, the sudden joy jolting through you.

Your hands quickly grab his bicep, pulling yourself towards him. A squeal of happiness escapes you, prompting a laugh from Theo. His smile, your favorite smile, triggers your heart to flutter. The way you’re looking at him sends his mind spiraling.

Gods, she is perfect.

It takes him a second to recover from the profound effect your touch has on him. His skin burns like fire, his heart aching for you. 

I’ll win her. I’ll win her so she can spin around in my arms again next year.

Your soft voice brings him out of his thoughts. “What do you think? Is it good enough?” you ask, your eyes contemplating your creation.

He reluctantly removes his arm from your hands, wrapping it around your shoulders and pulling you close to his side, your head resting gently on his shoulder. In a moment of risk, he drops it to your waist, his fingers fiddling with your sweater. Your face quickly turns to his in surprise. 

His pulse stops, his breath with it as your hand slowly makes its way to his chest, resting above his heart. Your head tilts up to meet his dark stare, your eyes locking in on each other.

“It is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. It is glaringly apparent he isn’t talking about the tree anymore. 

You swore his head leaned down, his lips parted slightly, his hand pressed your whole chest against his, before-

“Y/L/N! Where is that pretty little Ravenclaw?” You hear a familiar, yet obnoxious, distant voice crawling its way into the common room from the dungeon corridor. A disgruntled Theo shuts his eyes in defeat.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding.

He notices the look of disappointment etched in your features, it’s enough to send a pang of longing and frustration slamming into him. His heart drops as your body detaches from his, putting a space between you. His side feels colder without your warmth against it.

I had her.

Draco rounds the corner, a skip in his step as he confidently strides over to you. His eyes light up with glee as Theo’s darken, seeing red. Draco takes your hands in his, kissing each one before speaking.

“My lovely little Y/L/N, just the girl I was looking for. I’ve got something to ask you,” he starts, your eyes widen as he gets down on one knee, keeping your hands clasped with his. A quick glance at Theo shows you the tension in his jaw, the dagger-like stare he casts on Draco.

Why’s she looking at him like that? That look was for me not even a minute ago.

“I have been personally invited to Slughorn’s holiday party and I couldn’t think of a more perfect date to bring. Will you be my plus one?”

The look of hesitancy on your face prompts him to continue. “Consider it the best Christmas present you could give me.”

Normally, Draco wouldn’t even entertain the idea of taking anyone outside his own house. But the Slytherin crew has a soft spot for you, so much so that the common room door doesn’t argue when you say their password anymore.

You giggle, taking a step closer to Draco. “Well, I do love a Christmas party.”

His bright, smug smile draws you in as he stands up and pulls you in for a hug, resting his head on top of yours. “I know you do.” He smirks.

He shares the time and dress code details with you before heading off to meet up with Blaise for dinner. You look around, only to find you’re alone in the common room. Theo left, admittedly, before he blew a fuse.

—

The next couple of weeks are interesting to say the least. Theo has been pining for your attention, trying to distract you from the other boys as much as he can. But mostly, he’s been keeping an eye on Malfoy.

In one instance, Draco came to Theo’s dorm, where he knew you were hanging out, to ask what you were going to wear to the party. “Hmm, we should match, I think.” He suggested. 

Nope. Not today, mate. And certainly not in my fucking bedroom.

Theo suddenly picked you up off his bed bridal style, physically removing you from Draco’s presence before either of you could agree on an accent color.

“Theo!” You yelp, wrapping your arms around his neck and peeking back at Draco. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere that prat isn’t.” He responds with haste.

In another instance, Draco sat across from you in the Great Hall during breakfast and gifted you a pair of earrings for the event. “They sparkle almost as much as you, love.”

The gesture brought a heat to your cheeks that had Theo making fists under the table. He can’t stand to see you flustered over Draco’s pathetic attempts to buy your affection.

Thin ice, Malfoy. Thin. Fucking. Ice.

Draco continues. “My mother picked them out special. She was beside herself when I told her I was taking you.”

At this, Theo happened to “accidently” spill his tea directly into Draco’s lap, earning him a public scolding. But the words go through one ear and out the other. He remains unscathed, because Draco left, and you’re all his again. And really, that’s all he cares about.

—

The day of the party arrives, one Theo has been absolutely dreading. No amount of self-soothing could keep his mind from imagining the shit Malfoy would pull without him there to interfere.

In your dorm, Theo watches as you fix your hair and apply your makeup. He observes your every move, trying to etch each one into his memory, noting all the things you do that drive him crazy.

The way she bites her lip while putting on mascara.

How she hums Christmas carols while pinning up her hair.

When she asks me what shade of eyeshadow she should wear.

When you finish dolling yourself up, you change into your dress in the bathroom. A pout of frustration escapes you as you realize your hands can’t reach the zipper. You decide to ask for Theo’s assistance.

When you walk back into your dorm, you’re met with a completely awe-struck Theo, his tired eyes grow wider than you thought they could even go. The boy is seemingly paralyzed by you. 

Holy bloody hell.

His trance-like gaze runs over the lace neckline, down the curves of your bodice, and over the shimmering gown. He’s never seen you dressed up before, and you have him wondering why it took so long to.

“Spin.” He demands, begs. “Please.”

You slowly turn for him, a small smile adorning your face. The gown flows like water, splaying out as it twirls around you. You have to admit, both the dress and his reaction are feeding your confidence.

Nothing matters in the whole world except for her.

He stands, having noticed the undone zipper in the back. He saunters towards you, jumping at the opportunity, his eyes unwavering from your body. He places his hands on your hips, turning your back towards him.

Can I just marry her now? Can she wear this to our wedding? 

You feel his soft breath grace your neck, a whisper of affection envelopes you. “Mia bella ragazza,” he says, each word dripping with pure adoration. He zips you up with the utmost delicacy and care.

He wraps his left arm around you, pulling your back to his chest. He sways you both back and forth, imitating a slow dance.

“Y/N.” Theo says, ready to pour his heart out for you. Right here, right now. As your eyes meet his, you share a moment of yearning, his lips dead set on meeting yours…

Until an abrasive knock that could only belong to Draco breaks your stare from his.

Please don’t take her away from me now.

He, of course, opens the door without being granted entry. You slide away from Theo’s embrace, slipping on your heels and grabbing your cover-up. Draco beckons you to him, grabbing a hand and twirling you around.

The sound of your laughter plagues Theo. You link an arm with Draco, tucking into his side. Theo’s mind silently explodes with jealousy, trying to identify everything wrong with the sight in front of him.

He looks like dirt compared to her.

Draco reaches to fix one of the earrings he gave you, setting it just right. Heat begins to course through Theo’s very being.

I’d rather eat slugs than see my Y/N on his arm.

Draco leads them out, nodding a silent goodbye to Theo on the way towards the door. “I think we look rather dashing together, don’t you agree?” he asks, his ego caking each word.

Theo takes a deep breath, trying to maintain his composure as he’s left in silence. He vowed to himself that he would behave for you, for this one night. For your sake. 

But just before you leave his line of sight, you steal one last, desperate glance at Theo. And that’s enough to break his vow.

—

I can’t believe she makes me this stupid.

Theo thinks as he peers into Slughorn’s party from a tiny window. His feet perched on the ledge, several feet above the ground. His knuckles go white as his fingers grip the wall tightly. 

He spots you next to Draco at the table, noticing his hand covering yours. The students engage in lively conversation, mostly Malfoy telling boring stories about his father.

Though Theo tries hard to keep his focus on Malfoy, he can’t help but obsess over your breathtaking beauty.

His ears recognize the first few notes of the song you were humming earlier coming over the speakers. 

You gasp and whip your head towards Draco, your eyes lit up with excitement, your hands tugging his suit jacket. “This is my favorite song!! Can we dance?” You ask him.

He stands and offers you his hand, which you take immediately. “All night, if you’d like, love.” 

He doesn’t deserve this. He can barely carry a tune, let alone dance. 

Theo hops down from the window, using the moving picture frames as leverage. Once he lands, he finds the back entrance to the party, peering through the sheer curtains.

Good luck pulling this off, Malfoy. I hope she laughs in your face.

But that’s not what happens. In fact, it is hard to deny how absolutely gorgeous you two look together, each step perfectly placed, each twirl calculated. Everyone watches you both sweep across the dance floor with ease, like you’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. 

And even worse, it looks like you’re enjoying it. Theo’s hand drags down his face in agony.

Fuck… he’s killing it.

Theo’s inner fire intensifies as Draco’s hand moves to rest on your lower back. Too low for his liking. And the way you’re eating it up drives him mad. Draco leans in near your ear, sharing smirks and whispers with you. 

The bloody fool is talking during her favorite song instead of letting her sing.

An idea sparks in Theo’s head, one that would probably disappoint you. But he doesn’t care anymore. Especially as he watches Draco cross the final line by dipping you backwards, his eyes obviously lingering on your chest. When he lifts you back up to him, you hear a faint, boyish voice call from behind you.

“Confundus.”

Suddenly, Draco stumbles over, tripping over his own feet and falling on the floor, bringing you down with him. Slughorn swiftly strides over and accuses Draco of drinking too much champagne, despite your efforts to defend him. When he’s asked to leave, you follow him.

“Are you okay?” You ask, patting down the front of his suit jacket and fixing his hair. He rolls his eyes, shrugging you off and mumbling something to himself about how “Slughorn will pay for this.”

As he sulks away, you find yourself alone in the corridor, sighing and stepping out of your heels. A humming sound emanates from behind you, the familiar tone easily identifiable to your ears. You can’t help but smile as the pieces fall into place.

“Really? Confundus?” You joke, turning your head to the side with a smirk. Theo’s arm wraps itself around your front once again, swaying you in his slow-dance way. What you didn’t expect was the feeling of his lips on your cheek, kissing you ever so softly.

“Si, bella.” He responds, switching to kiss your other cheek. “With the way he drooled on you all night, he’s lucky it wasn’t a Crucio.”

You remove his hand, letting yourself turn to face him. He kicks your heels to the side, allowing you to step closer. Your hand reaches up to caress his cheek, your finger tracing the edge of his jaw.

“Mio bel ragazzo,” you say, lifting yourself up on your tippy toes. He pulls away, catching you off guard, grounding yourself to the floor again.

“I’ve waited forever to kiss you, Y/N. Dreamed of it, even.” He pauses for a moment, gathering his words, his finger twirling around one of your stray curls. “Let me.”

The blush on your face hits a crimson peak, nodding a silent grant of permission. Your heart races as both his hands firmly cup your face, pulling you gently until you feel his lips join yours, melding into each other.

The kiss is long and earned, his lips moving against yours with intention. When he finally breaks for a breath, you tug on his collar, quickly crashing your lips back onto his. A low moan travels its way from his mouth to yours, his hands now wrapped securely around your waist. Good luck getting this boy to let go.

You pull away, letting Theo rest his forehead on yours, a stupid smile adorning his face as he processes the moment.

“For what it’s worth, I told Narcissa I wanted those earrings. I think she almost felt bad that I had to go with him.” You laughed, playing with the jewelry on your ears.

“He’s not allowed near you- no, he’s not even allowed in the same room as you from now on,” Theo says, a shadow of the tension in his jaw lingers. “Or it’s lights out for him.”

You both break into a fit of laughter at the threat, leaning on each other for balance.

You pause for a second, his eyes brimming with unspeakable joy. Your hand finds the back of his neck, grazing it with your fingertips, feeling the resulting chills it sparks on his skin.

“There’s only one room I want to be in right now, and I’d like you to take me to it.” You whisper, Theo’s expression becoming eager as he immediately lifts you up, swiftly carrying out your order. You could tell him to burn down a city and he’d do it for you.

“Am I dreaming this, bella? Am I really taking the most extraordinary person who’s ever lived back to my dorm?” He asks, relishing the feel of your arms around his neck and the scent of your vanilla perfume encompassing him.

“Wow, the most extraordinary person? Ever?!” You giggle, your voice coated with exaggeration. “What does that make you?” You ask him.

“The luckiest.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[uuh-woah-lets-keep-the-feelings]

🌴✨🌴𝓤𝓱𝓱~🌴✨🌴𝔀𝓸𝓪𝓱~🌴✨🌴𝓛𝓮𝓽𝓼🌴✨🌴𝓚𝓮𝓮𝓹🌴✨🌴𝓣𝓱𝓮🌴✨🌴𝓕𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader falling obsessively in love with kny men after getting poisoned

Pairings: Rengoku x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader; Giyu x fem!reader; bonus Genya x fem!reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: There's no smut going on but it's definitely a close call lol, I just thought this concept is funny so the fics itself and the whole scenarios aren't 100% serious it's getting absolutely heated in every single one though hehe, Not proofread bc I literally finished this last minute before my flight lol, I'm currently in Greece when this gets published so surprise ya girl with your support until she's back 🤍

Rengoku Kyojuro

“And you’re sure this is safe?”, you question while looking up at Shinobu with frightful eyes.

It should be fine. After all, Shinobu is the one who invented a medicine that is supposed to finally force your headache away. She’s a professional, so well-educated that even Kagaya-sama’s very own children get treated by her.

Even though she didn’t have the chance to test this medicine, you should be fine.

Right?

“As you know, I’ll never promise something I can’t keep, (y/n). But you’re here with me and if something goes wrong, I will find a way”, she tries to reassure you, only to spike your panic up even higher.

“Listen Shinobu, maybe I’ll try something e-“

Before you’re able to finish your sentence and stop her, you feel a needle poking through your arm oh so gently.

For a moment, you simply sit there and blink in confusion. Huh, not as bad as you thought. It really seems like your headache slowly but surely starts fainting away while the medicine burns every so slightly through your veins.

Not bad at all.

Until your heartbeat picks up so suddenly that your eyes dart wide open. Like in trance, you yank out of the chair you were sitting in, orbs darting around without a real aim while frantically searching for something.

Or rather someone.

What a quiet and peaceful day it is to roam around the beautiful butterfly estate. Rengoku actually didn’t even plan to come here. After all, he isn’t injured nor does he need something from Shinobu-san. To be honest, he’s only here because of you.

You told him yesterday that you’ll see Shinobu today in order to test medicine that is supposed to end your ongoing headaches. You were a little frightened when you thought about getting an injection, so it was never a question for Rengoku to be there for you. Hopefully, he made it on time.

“Kyojuro.”

He furrows his eyebrows and turns towards that unusual seductive voice.

When your eyes meet his, he forgets how to breathe. There you stand, your kimono opened just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your chest like never before. But what simply sweeps him off his feet are your eyes. As gorgeous and captivating as ever, but this time igniting an so unknown spark, inviting him to a silent dance.

“(y/n), are you feeling alright?”

Your hips swing from side to side as you draw closer to him and place your hand straight over his beating heart.

“I’m feeling better than ever before, Kyojuro.”

Kyojuro can’t help but blush deeply, eyes widening in surprise. A nervous smile plays on his lips while he stammers slightly, unable to hide his flustered state. Is this really you, the secret love of his life, discovering his body with your bare hands? The second your flat palms start wandering over his back, his hands start to fidget. Out of instinct, he avoids eye contact, his very own hands now keeping you in place.

“W-What’s going on. (y/n)?”, he stammers like he never did before.

“Take me, Kyojuro.”

His eyes grow even wider, usual confidence momentarily faltering like a house of cards.

“I-I…um, what?”

With a force he didn’t even know you have, you shove him against a nearby tree, your knee gliding between his legs.

“I want you since the first time I saw you. I won’t wait for another opportunity when you’re right here.”

“(y/n)…D-did you already meet Shinobu-san?”

Are you sick or injured? A quick scan of your body reveals nothing that could indicate a serious wound. No, to be precise, you reveal nothing but your soft curves, your gorgeous frame he has never seen like this before. With your kimono slightly opened and the cleavage that peaks at him oh so invitingly…He never felt your hands pressed against his chest like that before, never got a taste of how well you fit inside of his arms.

No. He shakes his head ever so slightly, forces his own mind back to reality. This isn’t the (y/n) he knows. You’d never sneak up on him like this, even if the words you just spoke are true.

Oh, please let them be true.

“All I care about is you”, you purr, face now only inches away from his.

If his back wasn’t pressed against a tree already, Kyojuro would lose his balance for sure. He was always captivated by that gorgeous colour your eyes have, never able to look away. But now, with that dark gleam inside of them, your hands wrapped around his neck. A little innocent kiss, a dream that comes true right here and now-

“(y/n), come back right now!”, a voice cries behind him so suddenly that he jumps up inside the cage of your comforting arms.

“We are here, Shinobu-san!”, he replies automatically.

Only to regret his words instantly. Just one second more and his lips would have touched yours, only a few moments more in your embrace before it all ends again. It takes him all his strength to let go of you when Shinobu arrives with an injection ready in her hand.

“I’m beyond sorry, Rengoku-san! (y/n)’s strange behaviour is all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll bring her back in just a moment.”

Faster than he’s even able to comprehend the insect pillar’s words, she sticks a needle into your arm and releases the injection.

You blink a few times, head spinning uncontrollably as you stumble backwards. Where are you? What happened? Your head pounds so roughly against your skull that you feel like puking any given minute.

“How are you feeling, (y/n)?”, Shinobu’s comforting voice rings in your ears.

Slowly but surely, your foggy vision starts to get clear again.

“Since when are you so tall, Shinobu?”, you mumble absently.

“It’s me, (y/n). Kyojuro.”

Oh.

“Kyojuro!”, you mumble in utter surprise.

“But…what are you doing here?”

“Let’s not talk about it. I-I…I need to go now”, the flame hashira announces before turning on his heels and walking away.

You stare at his back in nothing but confusion. What is wrong with him? Is he not feeling well, maybe?

“Is it just me or does Kyojuro walk very strange today?”, you question, earning endless giggles from Shinobu next to you.

“He does indeed.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa

“Watch out idiot, you’re gonna get hit!”, the white-haired man barks harshly at you before dashing towards again.

It happened faster than you were ready to react. A little troll through the woods at night, a deep conversation with the wind hashira. And just a few seconds later, an upper-ranked demon appeared out of nowhere.

“Don’t let it hit you, (y/n)!”

“I’m not stupid, dumbass!”, you bite back while dodging another hit with a tendril.

What a strange-looking demon that woman is. With countless pink tendrils that act as her hair and her long tongue, she really looks different from every demon you’ve seen before.

“Still fighting for your love, you fool?”, she jeers at Sanemi before trying to hit him once again.

"I will show you what love really is! It's a consuming fire that burns away your sense of self, leaving you hollow and desperate. It's an obsession that blinds you to reality, making every thought, every breath, every heartbeat revolve around the one person who becomes your entire world. In this love, you lose your freedom, your identity, and your sanity, as you sacrifice everything to feed the insatiable hunger that never goes away-“

“Can you just stop talking shit, ugly bitch? I just wanna go home”, Sanemi interrupts her dryly

You chuckle to yourself. As if a demon would know anything about love. Their only purpose on this earth is to kill innocent humans for the fun of it.

“What the hell do you know about love, huh? All you do is destroying it”, you blurt out.

Just a moment of sloppiness, a second of turning your back to the tendrils that surround you like a prison. The second you feel it, it’s already too late.

“(y/n)!”, Sanemi cries out, feet rapidly carrying him to your side in order to slice through that fucking piece of tendril that pierced itself through your leg.

He wraps his arms around you tightly, saves you from clashing onto the ground. But the second you open your eyes again, they don’t look like they did before. No, you look obsessed.

“Hey, look at me (y/n). Come back to me”, he insists, a slight tone of panic now taking over his usual so harsh voice.

What if that bitch poisoned you? Shinobu is miles away, there’s no way in hell he’d make it on time. And even now, tendrils continue to circle both of you, waiting for an opportunity to hurt him as well.

“Just see what love does to you! You’ll have to kill her!”

“What the fuck are you talking about”, he hisses under his breath.

“(y/n)?”

“Sanemi.”

Your voice sounds dark, unpromising, coated in something he’s never heard before.

“Hey, are ya alright?”

You’re moving too fast for him to react. In the split of a second, you sit on top of him, your hands holding his in place while your lips start tracing up and down his neck.

For a moment, Sanemi forgets how to exist.

You’re sitting on top of him.

With your lips pressed against his neck.

Almost instantly, blood shoots up his face and straight into his private parts, eyes widen in…horror?

No, not because of you, not because he doesn’t enjoy to finally feel you this close. But this isn’t you. This is the poison of that fucking demon.

Just before he gets hit as well, he slices through another tendril that was ready to attack both of you.

“You can’t save her and yourself!”, the demon shouts at him in sheer amusement.

“Your love will get you killed!”

“(y/n).”

His voice is as tender as never before, hands now grabbing your arms oh so gently.

“You need to come back to me, okay? This isn’t you, this isn’t…how you feel for me.”

He hates the way his heart starts aching as soon as those words leave his mouth. There’s no way in hell someone like you would ever fall for someone like him if it wasn’t for that demon. Not when you’re so gorgeous, so breathtakingly beautiful, so smart-

“But I love you, Sanemi! And I need you!”, you cry out, lips now only inches away from meeting yours.

“You don’t love me, (y/n). How could you ever love me?”

“Let me show you.”

Just before your hand gets the chance to grab his pants, he swings you around in order to lay on top of you – completely out of breath and flustered like never before.

“You need to focus. We need to kill that bitch”, he tries to remind you while dodging another wave of attacks with his free hand.

“You’ll need to kill her!”

“Shut up!”, he barks at the demon behind him.

But that thing’s right. With you writhing like a snake underneath him and those countless merciless attacks, he can concentrate on neither.

“I’m the only one who’s able to save her-“

“I said shut up!”

“(y/n), please get yourself together”, he breathes out.

God, why do you have to look so damn tempting with your legs wrapped around his waist and eyes as flustered as he’s never seen before? Countless lonely nights, he imagined what you might look like, feel like, sound like.

But this isn’t real. That sudden outburst of love isn’t real.

“Looks like you’re busy, Shinazugawa. Maybe you should do things like that somewhere other than on the battlefield”, a painfully known voice comments behind him dryly.

“Shut up at take care of that bitch. I need to look after (y/n)”, he instructs the serpent hashira sharply before picking you up and sprinting into the woods.

“I need you. Please”, you beg between his arms, the way your hands roam around his chest simply driving him insane.

“You can’t help her!”, a faint female voice cries behind both of you.

Screw that fucking demon. He needs to get the real you back, needs to finally confess his damned feelings. Even if all of this is nothing but poison, he simply can’t live like this anymore. Not when you’re so close to him every day, not when he secretly can’t get enough of that sight in front of him right now.

“Come back to me, (y/n)”, he almost begs while letting you down.

Fuck, what is he supposed to do? What if he’s not able to help you? Even if he sends after Shinobu, you might go insane until she arrives. And what if you do something stupid, what if he isn’t able to protect you? And what if this isn’t the only thing that cursed poison does?

“Don’t you love me? I thought you like me back, I thought we have a future together, I…I can’t do this without you!”, you suddenly scream on top of your lungs while bursting out in tears.

“What? I never said that-“

“I don’t wanna live without you. I…I’ll end this!”

It happens almost too fast for him to react. In the matter of milliseconds, you grab your sword and direct it towards your throat, ready to slice it open with full-force.

“You little idiot”, he hisses through gritted teeth while forcing your blade away.

“I love you so fucking much that it hurts, you’re the only thing I’m thinking about constantly! Can’t you see that you’re driving me crazy since joining the corps!? I love you, (y/n)! I always did and I definitely always will! You’ve got me trapped, goddamn!”

And then he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, passionately, as if you’re air and he cannot breathe. Never in his life, Sanemi longed for something so small yet so big. Each and every night, his mind wandered to your lips, your laugh, just you and your fucking perfect self. He can’t stand the thought of you talking about yourself so badly. Him not loving you? Are you fucking insane?

“Sanemi.”

You breathe his name against his lips oh so sweetly.

Sweetly, with that cheeky undertone he knows so well.

“Is that you, (y/n)?”

When he opens his eyes again, he gets greeted by the gleaming kindness that radiates from your orbs just inches away from his.

“I’m sorry for…throwing myself at you like that…”, you mutter with reddened cheeks.

How embarrassing. You can’t believe you were about to touch his groin without permission. Even if you were poisoned, what the hell has gotten into you? And why do you have to remember all the things you’ve said and done? That would have been the least that cursed poison could have done…

“Don’t be, it’s fine”, Sanemi replies equally awkward.

“But…are you actually into me?”, you mumble followed by a swift gaze.

“I…I mean…-“

“He totally is”, Obanai barges into the conversation from behind.

Giyu Tomioka

“Didn’t you say that-ah! This was supposed to be easy?”, you press out while fighting a bunch of demons.

You really have no idea how you ended up here. Just a few seconds ago, you were having the best sleep of the week when your crow interrupted your slumber as rude as ever and literally dragged you onto the battlefield straight on his side.

His side. Giyu Tomioka, to be exact. The mysterious yet captivating water hashira you are eyeing since the first day of joining the chosen circle of pillars. What is it that ties you onto him like a chain, that forces your mind to wander towards him each and every day without any break?

“I will take care of the right side. Stay focused”, he instructs you as absent as ever, not even sending you a single look while your heart is all over the place.

It’s ridiculous and you know it all too well. A man like Giyu would never fall for someone as clumsy and unsettled at you. He will never look at you the way you look at him, not even daring to send you a single smile. Because you’re nothing but comrades, distant known. If it wasn’t for your responsibilities as pillar, he would have never even talked to you.

And you absolutely hate the way this stinging fact bugs you every single day of your life.

“You’re not focused enough, stupid girl”, a voice way too close suddenly purrs inside your ear.

There’s no time left to react. Not even Giyu Tomioka is able to reach you in time when the demon scratches your neck oh so slightly.

Only enough to spill your blood.

Only enough to make you go absolutely insane.

Your mind gets flooded by a wave of emotions, memories, thoughts. All at once. So rapidly that you feel like fainting any given minute.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing hurts more but the truth. Did you ever wonder about what she might feel for you, even love, maybe? I will reveal her darkest secrets, her thoughts that were never said out loud. And when she finally loses her mind completely, I will force her to kill you and afterwards herself!”

Giyu’s eyes widen at those words. You, loving him? He never even dared to think about something like this, not when you are admired by everyone around you. Why would you fall for someone as quiet and boring as him?

He swallows hard. But knowing that deep inside him is definitely different from hearing those words coming out of your mouth.

“Giyu.”

Your voice sounds cold and distant, eyes completely blank.

“(y/n), I will get you out of here, I’m sure Shinobu is able to-“

“I love you.”

You hate him.

No.

You love him?

“And I’ve loved you for so long that I lost count a long time ago. I love the way you walk, the way you inspect the world around you so carefully. I love how tender you are when it comes to children. I love your kindness, your calm voice-“

“Wait, this wasn’t supposed to go like this!”, the demon cries out.

“I love the feeling of your eyes set on me even though I know I’d never stand a chance. You are so much more than a friend to me, so precious that it hurts. And I can’t help but imagine myself lying inside your arms every night. I can’t help but stare at you whenever I catch you training. I can’t stop those butterflies from invading my stomach every time you’re around. I love you with all my heart even though I know you’d never love me back.”

HIs mind goes blank, ocean blue eyes staring at you in sheer disbelief. Suddenly everything else around you goes silent. The demon, the screams from afar. All he’s able to see is you with those tears glistening in your orbs.

Giyu’s heart skips a beat when he begins to realize.

You really mean it. Every word you just said is true.

“But I do feel the same way about you”, he finally replies while cupping your hands with his.

“I just never thought someone like you would fall for someone like me.”

“I would always choose you”, you clarify in an instant.

And then your eyes roll back into your skull, your lifeless body threatens to hit the cold ground.

-later-

“Giyu? Where’s Giyu?”, you croak out before you even open your eyes, your heart hurting so bad that you feel like puking.

What happened? All you’re able to remember is Giyu’s hands intertwined with yours before everything turned black. Or was it just a dream?

“Finally, I was so worried about you, (y/n).”

But no. At this very moment, he still holds onto your hand tightly while looking down at you with his brows furrowed.

“What happened?”

“You were poisoned by a demon and lost consciousness. I carried you to the butterfly estate”, he explains as briefly as ever.

“You…carried me?”

“Of course I did. You were unconscious, like I said.”

“Did we hold hands?”, you blurt out so suddenly that you even scare yourself.

You can feel Giyu sliding back and forth on his chair, eyes avoiding yours at any cost. Oh no, did you make him feel uncomfortable? What if he’s annoyed because of your foolish mistake? You should have never asked him-

“(y/n), do you remember the conversation we’ve had on the battlefield?”, he questions with unspoken hope glimmering inside his orbs.

“I…I don’t remember anything…”, you finally admit.

What did you talk about? Did you insult him? And what about that demon? That thing definitely wasn’t a lower ranked demon.

“You told me you love me.”

Your heart leaves your body and soul behind, glossy eyes staring at him in sheer disbelief. Fuck, did you hear that correctly? You told him you love him?

“I…I said that?”, you stutter.

“I mean…M-maybe I h-hit my head a l-little too h-“

“And I love you too.”

Oh.

This is even more ridiculous.

“You love me?”, you shriek in reply.

“I never thought about the possibility that you might actually like me back. But when that demon poisoned you, when you told me that you love me…I can’t keep this lie up any longer. I love you, (y/n).”

Gently, he wraps his comforting arms around your aching body, allows you to take in his calming scent.

“It embarrasses me that it took a demon to finally say this out loud.”

“But…would you mind telling me what I said?”, you mumble against his neck.

He lifts up your head enough for you to catch a glimpse of his breath-taking smile.

“I’d rather keep these words for myself.

Bonus: Genya Shinazugawa

“Where’s (y/n)!?”, Mitsuri cries out in sheer panic while darting around the estate in a haste.

“(y/n)? I’ve seen her on her way to the hot springs just a few moments ago”, Tanjiro replies in utter confusion.

“Is there somebody else, Tanjiro-kun?”, Mitsuri continues while grabbing Tanjiro’s shoulders roughly.

“Hello, Genya”, you purr.

“(y-y/n)!? What the hell are you doing here, I’m taking a bath!”, Genya cries out with his cheeks already bright red.

But instead of getting lost like he told you to, you let your towel fall to the floor.

And stand in front of him.

Completely naked.

“What are you doing!?”, he shrieks.

In the matter of seconds, he turns himself away from you, his face burning like a thousand fires. Fuck, he’s already flustered when you’re around him in your uniform. But you, butt-naked, in the same hot spring? He’ll definitely die here.

“I needed to see you. There’s actually something I wanted to tell you in a long time, Genya.”

When the water around him starts to move due to you entering the hot spring, he feels like dying out of excitement and fright. You shouldn’t be here together, not when you’re completely naked, not alone. He never prepared himself for something like this to happen, didn’t even allow his mind to wander such places. Fuck, what is he supposed to do?

Suddenly, he finds himself whirled around in your arms, your chest pressed against his.

Your very naked chest.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“What are you doing!?”

“Come on, I saw the looks you were giving me when you thought I wasn’t watching”, you purr while drawing small circles onto his chest.

“I…no…I didn’t mean it…that way…I just think that…that you are awesome. And cute…”, Genya mumbles.

“(Y/N)!”

Another splash, another butt-naked woman that now grabs your shoulders and pulls you out of the water with impressive strength.

“I’m so sorry, Genya! I fear (y/n) mistook the love portion I made for juice!”, Mitsuri bubbles while trying to tame you down.

“CAN THE TWO OF YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE NOW!?”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt @sanemifucker

[i-love-ropes]

ROPE OF THE WEEK (3):

SISAL ROPE

FROM ROPE AND CORD / ROPE & CORD

(It’s actually called that)

I LOVE ROPE AND CORD!!!

THEY’RE MY FAVORITE STORE!!!

BUT I'M NEVER ABLE TO SHOP THERE BECAUSE I’M BANNED 

(He used to visit that store every day from opening to closing hour and harassed customers and employees by telling them rope facts)

I WILL NOW TELL YOU ABOUT ONE OF THE ROPES I USED TO BUY THERE ALL THE TIME BEFORE I GOT BANNED

WITH 9 REVIEWS (SURPRISINGLY) AND RATED 5 STARS

THIS SISAL ROPE IS THREE-STRANDED AND TWISTED JUST LIKE THE ROPE BEFORE

(Rope of the week (2) link)

EXCEPT IT’S A SISAL ROPE INSTEAD OF A POLYETHYLENE

NOW YOU MAY BE WONDERING WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A SISAL ROPE AND MANILA ROPE SINCE THEY ARE COMMONLY CONFUSED WITH EACH OTHER

WHICH I DON’T GET WHY THEY ARE WHEN IT’S VERY OBVIOUS

I WILL NOW TELL YOU THE DIFFERENCE!

(Took up too much time will be explained in another post)

NOW YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE!

THIS ROPE’S DIAMETER RANGES FROM 3/16 IN. TO 1 IN

WHICH MEANS YOU CAN USE IT FOR VARIOUS PURPOSES BECAUSE IT’S DIAMETER ISN’T LIMITED

BECAUSE EVERYONE KNOWS YOU CAN’T CLIMB A ROPE THAT IS 3/15 IN.

AND AS I SAID BEFORE, THE DIAMETER AFFECTS THE STRENGTH SO IT CAN HOLD AS LITTLE AS 540 POUNDS (WHICH IS STILL SUPER STRONG) TO 8100 POUNDS!!!!

THIS ROPE IS SO STRONG!!!!!!!!!!

IF I WAS THAT STRONG I COULD HOLD SO MANY ROPES!!!!!!

NOT ONLY THAT IT IS ALSO ROT AND ULTRAVIOLET RESISTANT

THOUGH IT SADLY SINKS IN WATER 

IT DOES SOMETHING COOLER IF YOU LET THE ROPE ABSORBS WATER

IT BECOMES STRONGER BY 120%!!!

IT TURNED ITS GREATEST WEAKNESS TO IT’S GREATEST STRENGTH

THIS ROPE IS MY IDOL

I AM TAKING SWIMMING LESSONS BECAUSE OF THIS ROPE

(Genuinely true, not an exaggeration)

YOU KNOW THE REASON WHY IT BECOMES STRONGER IN THE WATER BECAUSE ONE OF THE MAIN PURPOSE OF THIS ROPE IS TO MAKE FISHING NETS

THIS IS NOT ONLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE ROPE (THEY ARE ALL) BUT SAILOR WADDLE DEE’S FAVORITE ROPE 

I SEE THEM WALK INTO THE ROPE AND CORD STORE AND WALKING OUT WITH 600 FEETS OF THIS ROPE VERY OFTEN

WHICH COST AROUND 2,100 STAR COINS

I WAS WONDERING HOW THEY WERE ABLE TO AFFORD THAT MUCH ROPE BECAUSE I WANT TO BE ABLE TO DO THAT

SO I ASKED THEM “HOW ARE YOU ABLE TO AFFORD THAT MUCH ROPE?”

THEY REPLIED:

"GAUN AWAY FRAE ME YE ROPE MAD RADGE! AH'M GONNY NAB THE BIGGEST F*CKIN FISH ANYBODY'S EVER CLAPPED EYES ON!"

(English translation:

Leave me alone you rope-obsessed idiot! I’m going to catch the largest f*cking fish anybody have ever seen! Radge is the Scottish term for dangerous idiot)

I HAD NO IDEA WHAT THEY WERE SAYING, SO I LEFT

RECENTLY I HAVE BEEN BUYING THIS ROPE MORE OFTEN FROM MY ROPE DEALER BECAUSE I NEEDED TO REPLACE MY FURNITURE

AND BEFORE I WAS BANNED I BOUGHT A LOT OF THIS ROPE TO DECORATE MY FURNITURE BECAUSE IT IS A BEAUTIFUL PIECE OF ART

I USED IT FOR MY RUGS, COASTERS, LAMPS, WALLS, PLANTS, TABLES, AND MUCH, MUCH MORE

SO I’VE BEEN REDECORATING MY NEW FURNITURE WITH MY ROPE

WHICH IS GREAT BECAUSE FURNITURE WITHOUT ROPE IS VERY UGLY

I RATE THIS ROPE A

10/10

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader

You have no idea Simon’s rented a flat the next block over.

It’s the quickest walk, from your place to his, and he makes it frequently, especially at night.

You don’t know he stands in the shadow of a tree, waiting for your lights to flick on and off. On, and off, all night long.

Orion keeps you up, he knows without a doubt now. The tired eyes and tired smile you gave him the other day when he fixed the washer filled him with shame, miserable and scalding, a burn searing across his heart.

He gave you a baby, and then disappeared.

He estimates you get up every three hours. The dim, muted light from your bedroom window flickers alive, and then the living room follows shortly after.

If he was there, things would be different. He’d get up with Ry, get him tucked into bed beside you, snuggled up to your breast. He’d rub the apple of your cheek to gently wake you, just enough so you’d know what’s going on, but not enough to truly open your eyes. You would trust him, trust him to take care of you, and the baby, trust that he’s there. You’d be half asleep as he pulled your tank top down and helped Orion latch, half asleep when Simon turned you in the bed so the baby could switch, Simon’s chest warm at your back, his hand holding Orion steady. He’d stay awake and vigilant until he was done eating, burped, changed, and settled back into his crib. He’d kiss you afterwards, long and sweet, and then press his nose to your hair and breathe deeply, before waking up to do it all over again in three hours.

It’s all a fantasy, a secret dream he’s built and tucked away in his mind-

but it will all be real. Soon.

He starts with a dinner.

It’s around six when he strolls up to your front door. He’s got two orders of takeaway fish and chips, a favorite of yours (he remembers) and a strawberry mango smoothie (he’s not sure if you like these or not, if he’s being honest, but he knows nutrition is important right now. The internet says you’re burning a lot of calories, but you also need more sustenance and nutrient rich foods.)

You’re surprised to see him, when you open the door, too big sweatshirt rolled up at the sleeves, ratty shorts raw hemmed between your legs. He enjoys the way your thighs touch, how they press together, and remembers them as warm and soft. He’s (not so secretly, based on your first night together) pleased by your body. Soft and sweet and curved, but strong too, strong enough you made him a baby, to be a home to his son. And to him.

His favorite little kitten.

Your eyebrows crease together achingly slow as you take him in, and the spot the takeaway bag. You point to it, small smile twisting your lips. “You brought me food?”

“Need ta make sure you’re eatin’ enough.” He grunts, and then steps closer, crosses the threshold, herding you inside with a hand on your hip. He does a preliminary sweep of the flat, and then sets the bag and smoothie on your kitchen counter. “Baby asleep?”

“Just went down.” You sigh, leaning backward against the cool tile. “Was really fightin’ it today. I’m hoping he’ll sleep for more than the usual two, three hours he’s been getting.” Your head tips back into the cabinet, exposing the vulnerable marrow of your throat, and you roll, glancing at the plastic cup filled with cold pink slime. “And a smoothie?” He chuckles.

“Wasn’t sure ah, if you liked ‘em or not but… it looked good.” You glance at your feet, sweet smile shyly peeking at him.

“Thank you.” You whisper. Your voice is thick, trembling on the last vowel, and his stomach pitches. “It’s… really nice of you, Simon. To bring me food. I…” you glance up, eyes full of tears, and he’s drawn towards you like a magnet. “It was really hard today.” Your voice cracks.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He tugs you into his chest, palm stroking slowly over the back of your head. “I know it is, mama. I know. It’s okay.”

“It’s not.” You sniffle against him. “It’s s-so hard, and I’m like… I’m not even a human- I’m j-just like a milk machine and I can’t sleep and can’t leave this flat. I feel like I’m failing, like I’m doing everything wrong and I’m leaking and I-“

“Okay, shhhh. It’s okay.” His arms tighten around you, nose skimming along the top of your head. “I’ve got you, c’mere.” He cradles your cheeks, tilting you upwards to look at him. “You’re not failing, you’re doing a great job. Orion is safe, and happy, and healthy. You’re healthy, and safe,” he wipes the tear rolling down your cheek. “and we’ll work on the happy part.” He takes a deep breath. “‘m gonna take some leave, be around for a bit. I’ll be here, to help.”

“You don’t have-“

“I want to be here sweetheart. I wish I had been here all along.” He’s earnest in his plea and hopes you can see, all the things he wants to give you, all the things he’ll do. The space in his heart he’s carved away for you, for Ry. The aching sore spot under his ribs that stings when he’s away from you. “Alright? I’ll be right here.” He pulls your hand into his, and then up to his face, dotting his lips across your palm, promise whispered away into your skin. “I’m right here, mama. I’m going to take care of you, of both of you, okay?” You close your eyes, take a deep breath.

“Okay.”

[inklore]

— the stranger / qimir x f!reader. the jedi have hidden many things from you about the dark side. like how good pleasure can feel and he is more than happy to show you. contents: dubcon, fingering, blood, death, light choking | wc: 881+

Everyone’s dead. 

The other Jedi. 

Your master. 

Your friends.

Everyone’s dead, and you’re….you should be dead. Your blood should be pooling around your lifeless body, painting the green of the grass into something opaque and poetically mixing with the blood of your friends.

The friends you trained with. 

The friends you love. 

You should be lying lifelessly beside them. With honor and pride for fighting till the very end. That should have been your fate. Your ending. How this bloodbath too its close.

Not this. 

Not backed against a tree by the monster who killed those friends you love so much, making you feel….good. 

Good when you’re surrounded by death. 

Good when you can smell burning flesh with each shuddering inhale that inflates your shaking body, 

"It's really simple. So simple. The Jedi like to teach that it’s complex. Light, dark. As if the two can’t mingle, change. Warp. Meld together as one thing entirely. I can show you.” He had said as he stepped closer. Each syllable coming from his mouth matched his foot steps until he was right in front of you, and there was no longer anywhere to go. 

Your saber long gone. Destroyed in the chaos of blood and bodies. The safety of a weapon, of an escape, is gone when there’s no space left between the two of you. 

“It won’t hurt,” you flinched away from his fingers when he brushed them against your cheek. A twitch of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Quite the opposite. There is more to the darkness than your precious Jedi have taught you. It can heal. It can teach.” His eyes swept over your heaving chest, following a trail up the column of your neck to your mouth, making a chill prick the bottom of your spine. “It can please. Give you a type of pleasure not even the flow of light can bring to you. Let me show you.” 

Your jawbone ached when he grabbed it after you had shaken your head. After you all but spat in his face about how much of a monster he was. How he’s going to regret what he’s done. Making a stand for yourself with a voice as weak as you felt. 

“You Jedi, so closed off in your ways. Never open to something more enlightening. Accepting the other possibilities of being. Of feeling. How can you be all knowing?” His fingers moved from your jaw down to your neck, and the race of your heart accelerated when he wrapped his fist around it. The light pressure had been enough to make your body go into fight or flight. Your hands coming up to grip his wrist. “Let me teach you. I can feel it,” his thumb tapped your pulse point, “in your blood. You’re not like the others. You’re smarter. Be smart.” His head tilted further into your space, making his mouth inches from yours, “you might find by the end of it you want me to show you more.” 

That’s how you got to where you are now. 

The Strangers hand between your thighs, while the other still holds its grip on your neck. His jaw twitching with every moan you try to hold back. His grip on your neck tightening when you try to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any noise slip out. Making your mouth pull open, his mouth following the same motion in a pleased smirk. 

You’d realized half way into this, half way through the haze, that you could have slipped loose. He’d given you a proper opening to do so. But you hadn’t. Had let yourself be tempted and consumed, willingly.

The fact only adds to the churning in your lower stomach.

The hand between your thigh making your legs shake, your body contorting against the tree. Rolling against his palm, your swollen clit rubbing along the heel of his hand as the two fingers inside of you curl and make you cry out into the night. 

Your mind is a mess of pleasure and darkness that not even closing your eyes helps you sift through. To bring you back to the light you’ve had inside of you since birth. To ground yourself enough to use the many skills of the force you’ve been taught. 

Each time your eyes close, the pleasure feels worse. More intense. Like the deadliest kind of hallucinogen—his voice, his fingers, his face are there. Images of his mouth on your neck, body, lips, replacing his hand, projected through your head like a fog engulfing your entire being. 

It completely engulfs you, and you almost forget what it is like not to be consumed by the allure of darkness. Making your body ultimately crave more.

You don’t know if it’s real or not when you feel his lips brush against your ear and he says, “things that are this reactive to something so minuscule compared to everything else that can be given to it were meant to feel this good.” You shake your head, the walls of your pussy fluttering, swelling around his fingers. “You’re about to come on my fingers, what’s more proof than that that your body seeks the truth. You were meant for all the things the darkness can give.”